Fyodor :- You are a poet, friend, as well … to find a better job you shall!
V.V.P. :- I’ve got such laurels, what to say? But where were you along the way?
Fyodor :- I got frozen in the cold, that is what my soul told.
V.V.P. :- A winter of soul? Is summer a goal?
Fyodor :- It was delayed, I was afraid. But hope I do - will sky turn blue, and Sun of God will come in world.
V.V.P. :- To be a light in darkest night? This world is full of hatred, blight!
Fyodor :- Don’t be afraid, find strength to fly - the jackal will just howl and die!
V.V.P. :- Already howling, do you hear? The days of answer coming near.
Fyodor :- Such is the century and time … we have forgotten what is prime, in darkness many washed and stayed, and path to God they have betrayed.
V.V.P. :- That’s just what we are showing you! The years passed will now be few, and world will clear from the sin, and will emerge like submarine.
Fyodor :- How gothic is that your prediction … it is so fine and not a fiction! To clear in light we have because the God is knocking at the doors!
V.V.P. :- And one will find Him, being ready … let’s watch the topic, friend, already?
Fyodor :- All right, Vladimir, play your part! Prepare to watch, let’s give a start!
V.V.P. :- A time of wonders is approaching, and gentle souls Spirit’s touching …
Fyodor :- Such events take the place just once … think wider, our TV fans!
A camera in television studio moves somewhere sideways and upwards, at first displaying the vicinities of some city from height of a bird’s flight, and then sharply dives downwards and panoramas of various small streets are revealed before televiewers. Small streets quickly replace one another as camera continues its sharp dive there-here for rounds, moving at level of the third-fourth floors of buildings. Strangely enough, all streets look deserted - not a single wandering soul can be seen along it. All common crowd activity has gone somewhere, thousands of men and women as if have vanished from the city, and a din, so traditional for megacities, has totally broken off. Cars are parked in some chaotic manner along the edges of streets - some of them, were apparently hastily abandoned, - their doors are wide open, however no one aspires to take hold of another’s vehicle. City system of illumination and traffic light still work, however one cannot observe any visible movement at all. As if the city died out all of a sudden - definitively and irrevocably.
Fyodor :- Oh my, what’s going there on? Some time ago they dreamed of throne - but now all hidden like the rats … perhaps they’ve seen some giant cats?
V.V.P. :- This is New York … or bestiary? Reminds me of the mortuary … all people left the streets for good … oh no, this ain’t Hollywood!
Fyodor :- Who record this to be then shown?
V.V.P. :- It’s operator, who has flown!
Fyodor :- Oh my! A man can soar like bird?
V.V.P. :- And do much more of that sort!
Fyodor :- With proper faith we all can fly and join thus the life of sky?
V.V.P. :- A couple is already soaring … and trust my word, this isn’t boring.
Fyodor :- I see … oh well, and where are men, have gone to Hollywood all then?
V.V.P. :- Like cockroaches in the homes - all reading now the holy tomes! As if the priests of the blight behold the coming of the Light!
Fyodor :- Like cockroaches, being lit, they run away now, breaking feet? What are they doing at these times?
V.V.P. :- Before the God commit their crimes. Ask to forgive their sins in demise, feeling how far they are from Paradise. Knowing, perhaps, what some earned with deeds … asking to banish from soul dark seeds.
Fyodor :- In hearts and minds believed in God? That’s such a wonderful accord …
V.V.P. :- Fyodor, remember, who’s recording them!
Fyodor :- Your operator in skies like a ram?
V.V.P. :- Sort of, my Fyodor, and something like that … see through the camera, how he is glad?
A smiling ruddy physiognomy of the operator suddenly appears before televiewers. The physiognomy shows its tongue and, apparently, teases televiewers. Then a hand appears on the front in a camera, affably waving to all.
V.V.P. :- This is Ivan, the operator - he’s roaming skies as of the later!
Fyodor :- The bird descended from the skies … and what of planes?
V.V.P. :- They’ve stopped their flies!
Fyodor :- Are they afraid to crash with him?
V.V.P. :- No better plane they’ve ever seen!
Fyodor :- All what I’ve learned in institute … the laws of physics …
V.V.P. :- Leave for good! The world of wonders is the choice, the God has heard appealing voice…
Fyodor :- Where are our physicists can we see? Vomit in toilets or have flee?
V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us the institute! They are “praying” there now for good.
Camera suddenly twitches, sharply floats somewhere downwards, then upwards, again downwards and upwards, speeding up on its way, and then for the last time dives down and flies directly into the open doors of some building, dives in corridors for a few times and then stand still in immovability. A huge hall opens before televiewers, filled with people in glasses, dressed in white dressing gowns. Those ones, standing near walls, amicable as though on command, with a periodicity of several seconds hit the wall with their heads, making a sound, somewhat resembling a “bom!” Those unlucky ones, who have got no walls in their direct possession, are standing in the center of the hall on their knees, and with so smaller persistence strike a stone floor with their foreheads with approximately similar periodicity. The show depresses and bewitches simultaneously.
Fyodor :- Oh, stop this nonsense, help them heal, or other way themselves they’ll kill!
V.V.P. :- Ones in depression cannot thrive. Such is the way of disbelief.
Fyodor :- Their minds are useful still. Hope soon better they will feel.
V.V.P. :- To learn themselves they do not try … and in such actions their soul cry.
Fyodor :- One cannot learn himself through mind, a path to soul must he find.
V.V.P. :- I hope someday they’ll read this text. What are we going to watch next?
Fyodor :- In what casemates priest creep, being left without “faithful” sheep?
V.V.P. :- Ivan have seen how faithful ones pray not in church, yet sing and dance!
Camera changes its foreshortening once more, takes off from an institute building, winding through narrow and twisting corridors, then soars up in heavens and rushes in whitish clouds, from time to time looking at the sun as if for the sake of joy. Then sharply dives downwards, hardly not hitting an iron cross, decorating the top of the building, and flies into the open gate of some large temple. A truly intriguing picture reveals before the eyes: the last left in the church priest does, apparently, something unimaginable. He periodically fills his hands with a handful of “sacred” water and “tastes” it on a tongue, promptly screwing up ones face and meffedly whispering something under the nose; or removes a heavy cross, hanging on a neck, and strikes himself with it into a forehead, shouting “Amen” for better effect; or approaches a random icon, and starts ogling; or sits down on a floor in a pose of a lotus and begins beating out a tap dance on all the crosses, necklaces and other jewelry, covering his body; or with a heart-rendering cries “I banish thee, I tell ya!” starts rushing over a hall, threating someone invisible with a overgilded cross. This show frightens, intrigues and bewitches at the same time.